The air shattered with a roar that didn't sound like it came from any living creature. Dust and stone burst upward, throwing the group off their feet. Ragnar's ears rang, but his hand didn't loosen its grip on his sword.
The ruins were no longer ruins — the ground split apart, revealing a massive pit beneath. Faint blue light spilled from cracks in the earth, forming lines of ancient runes that pulsed like veins.
"Everyone—back!" Ragnar shouted.
Arven pulled Selene behind a broken pillar while Kael and Lyra took cover near the collapsed arch.
Then it rose.
A colossal being — not flesh, not spirit — something in between. Its body was made of shifting stone and mist, its eyes twin orbs of molten light. Chains bound its limbs, and each movement sent thunder echoing across the valley.
"What in the world…" Dain whispered, eyes wide. "That's not a monster. It's a relic guardian!"
Ragnar's breath steadied. He remembered fragments from the ancient texts — stories of guardians left behind to protect what shouldn't exist.
But this one felt different. It wasn't just protecting something. It was angry.
Lyra's voice trembled as she spoke. "It's… it's reacting to us. To the mark you bear, Ragnar."
Ragnar's eyes flicked down to the faint pattern glowing across his arm — the seal that had burned itself into him during his awakening. The same light glowed from the guardian's core.
"So, it recognizes me," he said under his breath. "Good."
Then he leapt forward.
Selene's hand shot out. "Ragnar, wait—!"
But he was already gone, cutting through the storm of debris. His blade met the guardian's chain in a single arc of light. The impact threw sparks and wind in every direction. The chain cracked but didn't break instead, it screamed, like metal crying out in pain.
The guardian swung its arm, sending a wave of compressed air that tore trees apart. Ragnar barely dodged, sliding on broken stones, his sword grazing the ground.
He heard Lyra chanting behind him, magic sigils forming in the air — barriers, faint but enough to keep the others safe.
"Hold it steady!" she yelled.
"I'm trying!" Ragnar shouted back, gritting his teeth. "It's not exactly small!"
Kael's arrows flew through the air — infused with light, hitting the guardian's joints. Arven followed with twin daggers, slicing through weak spots revealed by the arrows.
But every hit was met with the same, echoing regeneration — stone reforming, mist sealing wounds.
Selene's eyes narrowed. "There's a core! Center of its chest!"
Ragnar turned toward her voice and saw it — the glowing heart, burning behind layers of translucent stone.
He dashed, using the shattered debris as stepping stones. His movements were sharper now — faster, more controlled. For the first time, the team could see why he was feared even among the strong.
Each strike carried intent. Each motion had purpose.
The guardian roared again, its sound twisting the air, forcing Ragnar to his knees. The pressure was overwhelming.
Then — he remembered Lyra's words from last night: "Strength isn't about pain. It's about surviving after it."
His body screamed in protest, but his mind steadied.
He pushed forward — one step, then another.
Selene's voice rang out again. "Now, Ragnar!"
He jumped, blade raised. The world slowed. Wind roared past his ears as he swung the strike landing true.
For a heartbeat, silence.
Then — BOOM.
The guardian shattered, pieces of its body crumbling like glass into dust. The blue light faded from the ruins, leaving only the echo of Ragnar's heavy breathing.
When the dust settled, Lyra ran forward. "You… idiot," she muttered, smacking his arm. "You could've died."
Ragnar gave a small, tired smirk. "Wouldn't be the first time someone tried."
Selene walked closer, eyes soft. "You didn't have to do it alone."
"I wasn't alone," Ragnar said quietly, looking at them — each face marked by dirt, exhaustion, and something more: trust.
Behind the fading ruins, a faint shimmer appeared — a small crystal, floating gently where the guardian had fallen. Ragnar reached out, and as his hand touched it, visions flashed — a battlefield of fire and ash, a crown shattered, a voice whispering:
"The Law Devourer shall rise again."
He gasped, clutching his head as pain seared through his mind.
Lyra caught him before he could fall. "Ragnar!"
"I'm fine," he managed to say through gritted teeth. "But… it showed me something. The next path."
Selene frowned. "Next path?"
Ragnar looked up at the horizon.
"The north," he said simply. "That's where the real trial begins."
A chill passed through the air — not from cold, but from the weight of those words.
That night, they rested again — this time in silence. The ruins were calm, the wind whispering like the earth itself had finally gone quiet.
Selene sat near Ragnar, not speaking, just looking at the stars.
He noticed, finally breaking the silence. "You keep staring like that, people might think you're planning something."
She smiled faintly. "Maybe I am. Maybe I'm thinking of keeping you alive."
He chuckled softly — the rare kind that surprised even him.
"Good luck with that."
Lyra, overhearing from her bedroll, rolled her eyes. "You two flirt worse than enemies in old novels."
Ragnar didn't reply. But as he stared into the quiet night, his thoughts drifted again to the crystal, to the vision, to the whisper of fate calling his name.
And somewhere deep inside, he felt it.
This was only the beginning of what he'd have to become.